


Another Sad Love Song

by artistsfuneral



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Song: Welly Boots (The Amazing Devil), The Amazing Devil Lyrics, but only like four lyrics, soft, the tiniest amount of angst because they share a braincell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsfuneral/pseuds/artistsfuneral
Summary: A poet always wore their heart on their sleeve and yet, Jaskier kept his hidden, grasped it tightly into both of his hands and curled himself around it in a failing attempt to protect it. After two years of knowing the man, he looked at Geralt of Rivia and knew that his heart would be broken by a Witcher. Geralt must have known, surely it must have been obvious.---Geralt and Jaskier confessing their love to each other in spring.(Summary makes it sound sad, but it's actually just fluff)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141





	Another Sad Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> Who needs a canon timeline anyways?

**Another Sad Love Song**

Jaskier was by all means no stranger to the feeling of falling in love. He fell quickly and lightly. As quickly as he fell into it, he also fell out of it. He was a romantic at heart and a poet always wore their heart on their sleeve.

Jaskier had an eye for the pretty things in life. He loved freckles. He loved vibrant eyes and faces with character. He loved people who proved themselves to be unique. A dimple that came with a smile, a kissable patch of skin that stood out, a voice audible in a mass of talking people. He was a romantic spending hours a day reading or daydreaming about his one true love. He would write songs about them and between the lyrics in his journals were sketches of how they might would look like.

Yet, regardless of how often his heart jumped at the sight of a stranger, his love was always fleeting, never lasting long enough to anchor. Although he always called it “love at first sight”, there were nothing more than crushes. It was the idea of love, that he had fallen truly in love with. The idea of growing old side by side with the one person that actually made life better.

When he dreamt of his true love he didn't dream of adventures and heroics, he dreamt of spending his life with them. A quiet one in a friendly cottage at the coast. He would sing, sitting on the windowsill and they would be outside, living in his presence while they did – whatever it was that they did.

It took Jaskier two years to realize that ever so slowly a face had made it's way into his daydreams. It finally clicked into place, when one night he awoke during a thunderstorm and he remembered dreaming of sunshine and white hair, of a familiar grin and amber eyes. When he woke up witch a loud gasp and was greeted by the same face with the same hair and the same eyes, that looked at him with concern, he knew that his fragile human heart was in danger. Because what he wanted, what he really, _really_ wanted, was not meant to be. It was a scary realization.

Love had been a fleeting fun, a crush. Love had been a daydream of a “ _what if_ ”, it never was supposed to be so _real_. But when he found himself looking for his future, he found himself on that windowsill, smiling at the love of his life and his heart would ache and cry and bleed.

A poet always wore their heart on their sleeve and yet, Jaskier kept his hidden, grasped it tightly into both of his hands and curled himself around it in a failing attempt of protecting it. After two years of knowing the man, he looked at Geralt of Rivia and knew that his heart would be broken by a Witcher. There was no denying it (not really) and often times he found himself wondering whether Geralt already knew.

He must have known, surely it must have been obvious.

Every time Geralt came closer to him than normal, Jaskier could feel his heart stutter before it started pounding. The bard was not one to easily blush, but around Geralt his face would light aflame. Touch made him shudder and the very, _very_ few compliments he got left him astonished for hours. Surely Geralt must have noticed, but he never said a thing.

It left Jaskier's heart raw, but at least it wasn't broken yet. So when his notebook slowly filled up with sketches of Geralt and love songs too sad to be sung in a tavern, he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything when his heart jumped at every lopsided smile he got from across the fire and the way he could feel it stop beating whenever that same smile was meant for anyone else than him.

He rather kept on dreaming of the coast and the little stone cottage on top of the hill.

The feeling of love was not fleeting anymore. The thought of a life alongside Geralt had settled into his very bones and it scared him to death. Still, he followed the Witcher with his heart pounding in his chest.

Another year passed.

It felt as if Jaskier could see the seasons change right in front of his eyes. He silently mused, that immortality must feel exactly the same. Standing in the same spot while seasons change around you in the blink of an eye. It was a sad thought, a lonely one, that pulled him in his winter-melancholy. Oxenfurt was a beautiful, lively place, but his heart was not there with him. He must have forgotten it between Geralt's belongings in one of Roach's saddlebags.

Winter was cold and silent and Jaskier filled page after page in his notebooks. Most of his songs weren't meant for an audience anymore. He composed and sung them in the isolation he had build around himself.

That was how Geralt found him next spring.

He had climbed a tall tree to prevent running in a group of travelers and after they were gone he had noticed the view from the thick branch he was leaning on and his heart – wherever it was – had cried out for him to sing into the wilderness.

“Cos when it's cold, I'll wrap my scarf around you,” Geralt heard him sing, “And when it's hard I'll place your head into m hands.”

Clicking his tongue he lead Roach towards the familiar voice that resonated in the blooming crowns of the trees.

“And when you scream that it's not fair, It's like I've gone off to the coast, left you behind just standing there, pretending not to see your ghost.”

Geralt didn't recognize the song, then again it felt like Jaskier had stopped singing many of his songs a long time ago. The Witcher was left silently wondering what had changed between them, that would make Jaskier keep his songs to himself. He knew Jaskier often spoke about the coast, but who could he possibly have left behind? It seemed that for a long time Jaskier hadn't had any romantic relationships anymore. Was it because he was traveling with Geralt? Surely that couldn't be it.

He followed the song up to an old oak tree, where is bard sat between branches, lute pressed closely to his chest and gaze lifted towards the horizon.

“If only you could hear my voice, But you are screaming far to loud to hear me swear, Just because I left doesn't mean that I'm not still there.” He stopped his strumming after and angrily played chord that made Geralt snort.

“Who broke your heart, Julek?” he asked with amusement in his voice.

Jaskier let out a startled yelp and nearly fell off the tree. “Meltitele's tits, Geralt! Don't scare a man like that, will you!” He yelled in fake agony, before he threw his pack down for Geralt to catch.

With watchful eyes the Witcher made sure that Jaskier made it down the tree safely, before he heard the bard speak again. “Besides, my heart is yet to be broken. It appears I only have misplaced it.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, the question went unsaid. He watched as Jaskier straightened up his doublet and dusted it off with a quick motion of his hands.

“Jaskier,” Geralt's tone made the human shudder, “are you alright?”

Now it was Jaskier's turn to snort in amusement, the fake cynicism was basically dripping of his words as he spoke, “Oh don't you know, Geralt, I have fallen helplessly in love with Roach, I was going to ask for her hand- hove this spring but word got to me first, she has cheated on me with that Witcher horse of your dearest brother. I will never be the same again.” Roach snorted into Jaskier's direction, clearly having heard her name. Geralt petted her. “You and Scorpion, huh? A shame really, personally, I would have chosen the bard.”

Jaskier's heart jumped inside his chest and Geralt gave him a knowing smirk. “Yet again, Scorpion is a pretty handsome stallion isn't he?” the older man teased.

With an exasperated gesture, Jaskier puffed out his chest and made a face. “And here I think, Witchers are always so serious. Lies. All lies, I tell you.” He took his pack back from Geralt and made a show out of walking away, not seeing the fond look in Geralt's face.

The Witcher mounted his horse and with a click of his tongue Roach followed after the bard. “What is the song about?”

It wasn't a very fair move and Geralt knew this. Jaskier loved to talk about his music and the meaning behind his metaphors as much as a mad sorcerer loved to talk about whatever evil plan they had developed.

The bard turned around mid-step and glared at Geralt. “It's a love song, if you must know,” he said, nose held high, before he started walking again, now softly strumming his lute with the unsung melody of the rest of the song.

“It sounds rather sad,” Geralt commented and Jaskier took the hook. In a soft voice he explained the meaning of the song. That it was meant to tell a story about a couple, where one of the partners doesn't know how strong they can be on their own and when their world falls to ruins around them they turn around and realize that they were never truly alone, because the whole time they were loved.

He went on and on about the lyrics and the meanings until Geralt interrupted him with a question. “Which one are you? Of the people in your song, I mean. Are you the one that goes away, but not really, or are you the one that doesn't think they are strong enough?”

Jaskier stopped the movement of his fingers and took a long breath. “I don't know,” he answered honestly. “For a long time I thought I was the one that would go to the coast, the one that has so much love to give, that it is easy to do so. But... being that person takes a lot of trust and a lot of bravery. The more I think about it the less I find that bravery inside myself and the more I can hear me helplessly screaming after the one I love. I like to give. I am a poet at heart, so naturally love is nothing new to me, but I can't help to find myself scared of the thought of a truly honest and everlasting love.”

He turned around with a fake laugh, trying to defuse the situation, but the sound got caught in his throat when he suddenly saw that Geralt had dismounted Roach and come close, _very_ close, to Jaskier, while he had spoken. “It sounds stupid, right?”, he whispered, not really trusting his voice not to break.

Amber eyes stared into cornflower blue ones as Geralt softly took Jaskier's face into his hands.

“No. You're not stupid, Julek,” Geralt said back, voice as hushed as the bard's had been.

Jaskier blinked at the endearment. The Witcher didn't use nicknames often, but he had done it twice that day and Jaskier found himself charmed by the elder speech that gave away Geralt's real age. Geralt wasn't one to say “darling” or “my love”, instead he only ever called Jaskier “his little lark” or used a form of speech that was long forgotten. “Julek” or “Jaskierek”, he would say and sound so soft while saying it.

It always made Jaskier's cheeks fill with blood and he would blush so hard he could feel the very tips of his ears grow hot. Again it had that very same effect on the bard and he found himself helplessly at Geralt's mercy.

The taller man was fully aware of that fact.

Jaskier's tongue darted forward in a nervous habit of wetting his lips and he could hear Geralt take in a long breath. His eyes darted to the Witcher's lips – for just a fraction of a second – before they were yet again caught by the hungry look of amber eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Geralt whispered, “Tell me it isn't me you have fallen in love with. Tell me... I am not the reason your heart is pounding in your chest right now and that your blood isn't rushing in your veins. Tell me I read this situation wrong.” As he spoke, Jaskier had slowly lifted his hands around Geralt's neck, pulling him closer into his space.

“No,” he said breathlessly and pulled Geralt in.

Their lips met and Jaskier's eyes fell shut the same time the warm hands at the sides of his face tightened. Geralt war warm. He smelled like leather and the forest, he smelled like the Path. He was warm and strong against Jaskier's chest and yet... his lips were soft.

Tiny sparks of electricity run through Jaskier's body and he felt himself melt under the other man's strong hands.

They kissed until Jaskier had no breath left and when they pulled away neither dared to let go of the other. Jaskier rapidly blinked, trying to regain his composure before he gave up and pulled Geralt in again.

He couldn't get enough of him. Three years.

He had been in love with Geralt for three years and he was not ready to let go just yet.

One of Geralt's hands wandered into his hair, softly pulling at brown strands, as the other fell down to grasp around Jaskier's waist. In response Jaskier inched even closer to the Witcher until they were pressed chest to chest.

His chest was heaving up and down when they parted again and even Geralt seemed to need a moment to regain his control, a thought that made Jaskier's knees buckle.

Still not really believing what just happened, Jaskier could only stare at Geralt with awe in his eyes. The hand that was still on his waist started to move in a soft rhythm. “You're not going o run away to the coast now, are you,” Geralt tried to joke, but Jaskier answered in all seriousness, “No. Not without you.”

A poet always wore their heart on their sleeve, but Jaskier had long gifted his heart to the one true love of his life. And as he stared into soft amber eyes he had spent so many nights and days dreaming about, he knew that one day, the man in front of him would break his heart.

He may never sit on that windowsill in that cottage on top of the hill, but he already knew that it would be worth it, because the love, that he could see in those vibrant eyes, was all he needed to know that he could do this.

He softly cupped Geralt's left cheek in his hand and whispered, “I love you” and the Witcher carefully took his lover's hand and placed a kiss to its palm. A silent promise of three words.

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my tumblr for more Geraskier!!](https://artistsfuneral.tumblr.com/)


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